Carol Jean's Final Quilt
(started from the mind of Heather White)
Heather:
Carol Jean Wilson was a quilter at heart. As she looked down at herself lying still and cold in the blue metallic coffin her children had picked out for her, she couldn't help but lament the fact that they didn't think to tuck one of her precious creations in with her remains. It made her feel cold, or rather that she should feel cold. She didn't really have any sensations other than the comforting assurance of her continued existence.
What a strange thing this death is, she contemplated. She had thought that her demise might be more of a revelation of light, or an instant transportation into some other world. Instead she just was. She was here, present, watching the mourning of her family members, the stoic calm of her daughter, Stella, as she cared for her five little ones, the shock on her friends’ faces. It was hard to feel anything. She no longer felt like a person, or entity, just a presence filling the quiet viewing room at the funeral home.
Carol Jean had actually been looking forward to death. She had lost her dear Will so many years ago, and was sure there would be an instant reunion with the man who still held her heart. But now there was nothing but space. Time seemed irrelevant. This was not what she was expecting.
Carol Jean looked down at her youngest child, Freddy, who was currently attending his first year of college. He was standing next to her coffin, looking down at her uncertainly. He rested his hand on the edge of the coffin, lightly touching the silky white interior. He then hesitantly moved his hand, as though about to touch her face, but withdrew without making any contact. Abruptly, he left her side and sat in the back of the room, leaving his older siblings to greet the mourning visitors. Where there would normally be a surge of overwhelming sympathy for the pain in this precious child of hers, Carol Jean felt nothing but emptiness. She had a vague sense of missing emotions, but could not quite grasp what was no longer there.
I must be a vacuum, she reasoned. Is this how it all ends?
JoLyn:
Gazing down at her casket, Carol Jean evaluated this body that had housed her for so long. Her wrinkles--those seams that stitched her features together --were smoothed out while she was lying down. The young lady who had made up her face for the viewing had used flattering coral lipstick where Carol Jean had never thought to try it in her lifetime. She wondered what her friends and family thought of her lying there, an entire decade taken off her 59 year old face through gravity and make-up. Carol Jean realized she couldn’t care what they thought. Her soul, spirit—whatever she was—could not allow her to care what others thought. Wondering would no longer lead to answers.
In the last few months, while her insides were getting eaten up with cancer and she had retreated to the comfort of her bed, quilting squares and a needle in hand, thoughts of her loved ones on her mind, Carol Jean had imagined dying would be like something akin to being released from a Jell-o mold. A mighty slurp and there her soul would be, transparent and quivering with new energy while her rigid body was left behind. Instead it had just been fading and not even realizing when she had passed from one state to the next.
Was this the afterlife? What about heaven? What about Will? What about . . .
A sudden beam of energy pierced her, spun her around and drew her attention away from her own funeral. She felt herself moving forward as though pulled by a ribbon of excitement and emotion. She was leaving her old life. The ceremony and all her loved ones that had been spread before her were now officially relegated to her past. Her soul gained speed as it moved toward the future.
Maryanne:
Memories from long ago flashed and faded. Emotions came over her in powerful waves, overwhelming her senses and then vanished as quickly as they’d come. The welcoming light grew to an unbearable brilliance and then, just as she was ready to face it, was gone. Now, in the dark, Carol Jean felt the magnitude of death. She felt the pain, she felt the sorrow, she felt the loss and she longed for the light to return and comfort her.
Slowly, she reached out, searching blindly for something solid to hold on to…. And there in the dark, she felt a familiar hand reach for her.
“Will?” she called out again and again, until all that was left was her voice echoing in the darkness.
Thelma:
“Carol,” came his voice, growing stronger, “Carol Jean. You are here.” Then she was in his arms. His arms were familiar and comforting and solid, just as they had been in life.
They stayed that way for a long time, talking, reassuring each other that yes, this had really happened. They were really together again. Carol Jean felt like she had so much to tell Will that she would never be able to fill him in on the years that he’d missed. Yet, as they spoke, she realized that he knew. Somehow he knew that Stella had five children. He knew that Carol Jean worried about her. Stella always seemed a little tired. Will knew that she was afraid Stella’s second child had a learning disability but Stella refused to consider it.
Will somehow knew about their second child, Josie. He knew that Josie and Steve wanted children more than anything and so far they’d only had miscarriages. “They’ll be OK,” Will assured her, with his arms still wrapped around her. And Stella could see that he was right.
And Will knew about Freddy.
Oh, Freddy.
Losing his father at a young age had been a blow to Freddy. He didn’t even have the steadying influences of his older sisters around because they had already grown up and left home. It had just been Freddy and Carol Jean and that first year, Carol Jean had cried a lot and not been a very attentive mother.
First Freddy had started smoking, then drinking. It had all come to a crisis the summer before his senior year when he had wrecked his car, drunk driving. Will knew all about it. “I was there,” Will said, “I know.” He patted Carol Jean’s arm and she wondered if all that time when she thought she’d been alone, maybe she hadn’t been.
“We got him back on track though, didn’t we?” Will asked.
And they had, well she had. Carol Jean still wasn’t sure how much credit Will deserved.
Frances:
She'd been the one to pick up the pieces. She'd gotten a good lawyer for Freddy and found a rehabilitation program that also offered high school courses. This way he could still graduate, not with his class but that was the least of her problems at the time. Luckily no one had been hurt during Freddy's drunken driving accident so he'd spent a short time in jail, a longer time in rehab and had finished his courses up the following fall and graduated in December. He'd gotten accepted to the local state school about two hours from their house and had started only a year after everyone else his age. It had been a miracle that crisis hadn't completely derailed his life.
"I'm glad he got on a good path before I died," said Carol Jean.
"We made sure he was before we let the cancer loose," said Will.
"What do you mean?" asked Carol Jean.
"You've had that cancer in your body for a very long time Carol. It was there even before I passed away but they knew I was dying and that the kids needed you so they kept the cancer contained. It wasn't until we were able to get Freddy in a good place that they let the cancer run its course," said Will.
"You're confusing me. What's going on? Who's this 'we' you're referring to and what do they have to do with me and my cancer?" asked Carol Jean.
A long pause and a look from Will made Carol Jean nervous. "You are my husband Will, right?" asked Carol Jean.
"Yes, it's me, Will."
"I'm just so confused about what's going on. It all seems too much. First I die and then instead of being whisked away to some heaven, I stay around earth and my loved ones only to be sucked away before my actual funeral. Don't get me wrong, I'm thrilled to see you Will but why didn't you come right away? I just don't understand what is going on?" questioned Carol Jean.
"You will, dear. I'll try to explain it all to you," replied Will.
Heather:
"Sometimes," he said in a gentle tone, "we are required to leave our loved ones behind, even when their lives are still full of uncertainty. It was so painful to have to leave you and the children. I didn't know how you were going to manage so much on your own."
Carol Jean remembered those wrenching hours following Will's death. Unknown to anyone, he had a congenital heart defect, essentially a ticking time-bomb in his chest. Always healthy and active, he was never one to visit the doctor regularly. He had a stubborn streak, which Carol Jean had found irresistible at eighteen, but also exasperating as they progressed through their lives together. At forty-two, the trigger was set and Will was ripped from her life.
"I was allowed to stay and help you," Will continued, and Carol Jean realized how much she had felt his presence during all those lonely hours. "I have watched over all of you, and with help from others, I have been able to make sure you could come through these trials."
Carol Jean allowed Will to once again encircle her in his arms, and enjoyed the warm presence of his spirit surrounding her.
"I can see that now," she whispered. "Somehow I knew you were there."
"Carol," Will said, pulling back slightly so he could look in her eyes. "There is more for us to do."
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"Before we can rest, there is more for us to do. Something for each of our children. But this time, we can do it together."
Heidi:
“Together”, Will continued, “We will be by their sides as they go through rough patches, help them celebrate the miracles in their lives, and any other experiences they may have along the way. We helped bring our dear children into that world, and so we have the extraordinary experience of walking along side them during times of trial or triumph. Sometimes we can do that best as angels unseen.”
Carol Jean was having none of it though.
“What?!” You mean I am going to be invisible and help them with no guarantee that they will be able to hear me or understand me? No. This is unacceptable. I want to go back. I want to talk to a supervisor or whomever it is you talk to here, wherever here is. I can’t help from here. I can’t hold my grandbabies from here. I can’t continue to help Freddy from here. I can’t encourage Josie or hold her hand or give her hugs or comfort from here! I need to go back! Take me back, now!”
This was not going at all like Carol Jean had expected. She had expected the afterlife to be like a Garden Path or a Pin Wheel, maybe a Log Cabin, but this was more like a Buzz Saw or a Crazy Quilt! Was there quilting in heaven? She could really use a needle and some thread right now.
Heather:
“Carol, it's going to be okay,” Will said in a soft voice, encircling her again in his arms. How many years had she longed for these embraces? Just like in life, his touch and his presence brought her comfort and steadied her heart.
Suddenly she felt a warmth rush all through her body and another voice sound through her whole being, whispering words of peace. Somehow she knew where it came from. It was love, so pure and all-encompassing that she had not even known it existed, or at least never comprehended it before. In a moment she felt how very much she was cherished and valued, and could see with clarity what the contributions of her life meant. Her life as a whole had been like a soft and colorful quilt. Some of the blocks were vibrantly colored, with intricate patterns interwoven together and the smallest of perfect stitches. Others were a soft haze of gauzy white and gray, with large stitches unevenly placed, as if executed by one who was just learning to hold a needle and thread. A narrow section slashing through the corner was a dark, angry brown, full of hard angles and frayed threads. Even though it marred the intricate beauty of the varied colors and patterns, it still seemed important, like the finished piece would not have been the same without it. Her quilt would not have been complete without the darkness to contrast the exquisite variation of experiences.
Carol Jean felt calm and peaceful. Her life had been full of meaning. Hadn't she brought three beautiful children into the world? As only a mother can, she knew exactly what each child needed to help them navigate through their own blocks of life.
To her first child Stella, Carol Jean radiated the assurance that all was well, along with a gust of confidence. She used Will's arms to wrap around her daughter the warm embrace of a father's love, while she whispered softly to her heart, saying “You can do this, Stella," and "I am so proud of you, my daughter."
For her daughter Josie, she dried the tender tears of a broken heart, left empty and childless, threatening to shrivel up and never experience the warmth of true happiness. Carol Jean wasn't surprised to find a little lost soul hovering around her daughter, unsure of how to make the leap into mortality. Will kindly took the child's hand, and with a kiss from his Grandma, guided him through the veil of haze and into his mother's anxiously waiting arms.
For her dear Freddy, Carol Jean looked far and wide for the one person who could mend him. She finally found Rory working as a waitress in a dive of a diner a few hours away from where Freddy lived. Will was particularly good at creating circumstances which seemed like trials at first sight, but eventually developed into carefully orchestrated blessings in the end. Between the two of them, they were able to get Freddy and Rory to meet face to face, after a series of unfortunate mishaps while Freddy was driving across the state for a promising job interview, and Carol Jean started the intricate work of stitching two lonely hearts together.
"You did good, Girl," Will told her affectionately as they were watching their family congregate once again, this time for the happier occasion of Freddy's wedding.
"We did good," Carol Jean corrected, taking her sweetheart's hand in her own. Her quilt was complete. The binding was finished, the threads were all trimmed, and her heart swelled with pride as she looked down at her creation. It was then that she realized she was no longer sad that her children hadn't placed one of her earthly quilts in the casket with her decaying body.
She had her most precious creation with her the entire time, and she no longer felt cold.
Carol Jean Wilson was a quilter at heart. As she looked down at herself lying still and cold in the blue metallic coffin her children had picked out for her, she couldn't help but lament the fact that they didn't think to tuck one of her precious creations in with her remains. It made her feel cold, or rather that she should feel cold. She didn't really have any sensations other than the comforting assurance of her continued existence.
What a strange thing this death is, she contemplated. She had thought that her demise might be more of a revelation of light, or an instant transportation into some other world. Instead she just was. She was here, present, watching the mourning of her family members, the stoic calm of her daughter, Stella, as she cared for her five little ones, the shock on her friends’ faces. It was hard to feel anything. She no longer felt like a person, or entity, just a presence filling the quiet viewing room at the funeral home.
Carol Jean had actually been looking forward to death. She had lost her dear Will so many years ago, and was sure there would be an instant reunion with the man who still held her heart. But now there was nothing but space. Time seemed irrelevant. This was not what she was expecting.
Carol Jean looked down at her youngest child, Freddy, who was currently attending his first year of college. He was standing next to her coffin, looking down at her uncertainly. He rested his hand on the edge of the coffin, lightly touching the silky white interior. He then hesitantly moved his hand, as though about to touch her face, but withdrew without making any contact. Abruptly, he left her side and sat in the back of the room, leaving his older siblings to greet the mourning visitors. Where there would normally be a surge of overwhelming sympathy for the pain in this precious child of hers, Carol Jean felt nothing but emptiness. She had a vague sense of missing emotions, but could not quite grasp what was no longer there.
I must be a vacuum, she reasoned. Is this how it all ends?
JoLyn:
Gazing down at her casket, Carol Jean evaluated this body that had housed her for so long. Her wrinkles--those seams that stitched her features together --were smoothed out while she was lying down. The young lady who had made up her face for the viewing had used flattering coral lipstick where Carol Jean had never thought to try it in her lifetime. She wondered what her friends and family thought of her lying there, an entire decade taken off her 59 year old face through gravity and make-up. Carol Jean realized she couldn’t care what they thought. Her soul, spirit—whatever she was—could not allow her to care what others thought. Wondering would no longer lead to answers.
In the last few months, while her insides were getting eaten up with cancer and she had retreated to the comfort of her bed, quilting squares and a needle in hand, thoughts of her loved ones on her mind, Carol Jean had imagined dying would be like something akin to being released from a Jell-o mold. A mighty slurp and there her soul would be, transparent and quivering with new energy while her rigid body was left behind. Instead it had just been fading and not even realizing when she had passed from one state to the next.
Was this the afterlife? What about heaven? What about Will? What about . . .
A sudden beam of energy pierced her, spun her around and drew her attention away from her own funeral. She felt herself moving forward as though pulled by a ribbon of excitement and emotion. She was leaving her old life. The ceremony and all her loved ones that had been spread before her were now officially relegated to her past. Her soul gained speed as it moved toward the future.
Maryanne:
Memories from long ago flashed and faded. Emotions came over her in powerful waves, overwhelming her senses and then vanished as quickly as they’d come. The welcoming light grew to an unbearable brilliance and then, just as she was ready to face it, was gone. Now, in the dark, Carol Jean felt the magnitude of death. She felt the pain, she felt the sorrow, she felt the loss and she longed for the light to return and comfort her.
Slowly, she reached out, searching blindly for something solid to hold on to…. And there in the dark, she felt a familiar hand reach for her.
“Will?” she called out again and again, until all that was left was her voice echoing in the darkness.
Thelma:
“Carol,” came his voice, growing stronger, “Carol Jean. You are here.” Then she was in his arms. His arms were familiar and comforting and solid, just as they had been in life.
They stayed that way for a long time, talking, reassuring each other that yes, this had really happened. They were really together again. Carol Jean felt like she had so much to tell Will that she would never be able to fill him in on the years that he’d missed. Yet, as they spoke, she realized that he knew. Somehow he knew that Stella had five children. He knew that Carol Jean worried about her. Stella always seemed a little tired. Will knew that she was afraid Stella’s second child had a learning disability but Stella refused to consider it.
Will somehow knew about their second child, Josie. He knew that Josie and Steve wanted children more than anything and so far they’d only had miscarriages. “They’ll be OK,” Will assured her, with his arms still wrapped around her. And Stella could see that he was right.
And Will knew about Freddy.
Oh, Freddy.
Losing his father at a young age had been a blow to Freddy. He didn’t even have the steadying influences of his older sisters around because they had already grown up and left home. It had just been Freddy and Carol Jean and that first year, Carol Jean had cried a lot and not been a very attentive mother.
First Freddy had started smoking, then drinking. It had all come to a crisis the summer before his senior year when he had wrecked his car, drunk driving. Will knew all about it. “I was there,” Will said, “I know.” He patted Carol Jean’s arm and she wondered if all that time when she thought she’d been alone, maybe she hadn’t been.
“We got him back on track though, didn’t we?” Will asked.
And they had, well she had. Carol Jean still wasn’t sure how much credit Will deserved.
Frances:
She'd been the one to pick up the pieces. She'd gotten a good lawyer for Freddy and found a rehabilitation program that also offered high school courses. This way he could still graduate, not with his class but that was the least of her problems at the time. Luckily no one had been hurt during Freddy's drunken driving accident so he'd spent a short time in jail, a longer time in rehab and had finished his courses up the following fall and graduated in December. He'd gotten accepted to the local state school about two hours from their house and had started only a year after everyone else his age. It had been a miracle that crisis hadn't completely derailed his life.
"I'm glad he got on a good path before I died," said Carol Jean.
"We made sure he was before we let the cancer loose," said Will.
"What do you mean?" asked Carol Jean.
"You've had that cancer in your body for a very long time Carol. It was there even before I passed away but they knew I was dying and that the kids needed you so they kept the cancer contained. It wasn't until we were able to get Freddy in a good place that they let the cancer run its course," said Will.
"You're confusing me. What's going on? Who's this 'we' you're referring to and what do they have to do with me and my cancer?" asked Carol Jean.
A long pause and a look from Will made Carol Jean nervous. "You are my husband Will, right?" asked Carol Jean.
"Yes, it's me, Will."
"I'm just so confused about what's going on. It all seems too much. First I die and then instead of being whisked away to some heaven, I stay around earth and my loved ones only to be sucked away before my actual funeral. Don't get me wrong, I'm thrilled to see you Will but why didn't you come right away? I just don't understand what is going on?" questioned Carol Jean.
"You will, dear. I'll try to explain it all to you," replied Will.
Heather:
"Sometimes," he said in a gentle tone, "we are required to leave our loved ones behind, even when their lives are still full of uncertainty. It was so painful to have to leave you and the children. I didn't know how you were going to manage so much on your own."
Carol Jean remembered those wrenching hours following Will's death. Unknown to anyone, he had a congenital heart defect, essentially a ticking time-bomb in his chest. Always healthy and active, he was never one to visit the doctor regularly. He had a stubborn streak, which Carol Jean had found irresistible at eighteen, but also exasperating as they progressed through their lives together. At forty-two, the trigger was set and Will was ripped from her life.
"I was allowed to stay and help you," Will continued, and Carol Jean realized how much she had felt his presence during all those lonely hours. "I have watched over all of you, and with help from others, I have been able to make sure you could come through these trials."
Carol Jean allowed Will to once again encircle her in his arms, and enjoyed the warm presence of his spirit surrounding her.
"I can see that now," she whispered. "Somehow I knew you were there."
"Carol," Will said, pulling back slightly so he could look in her eyes. "There is more for us to do."
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"Before we can rest, there is more for us to do. Something for each of our children. But this time, we can do it together."
Heidi:
“Together”, Will continued, “We will be by their sides as they go through rough patches, help them celebrate the miracles in their lives, and any other experiences they may have along the way. We helped bring our dear children into that world, and so we have the extraordinary experience of walking along side them during times of trial or triumph. Sometimes we can do that best as angels unseen.”
Carol Jean was having none of it though.
“What?!” You mean I am going to be invisible and help them with no guarantee that they will be able to hear me or understand me? No. This is unacceptable. I want to go back. I want to talk to a supervisor or whomever it is you talk to here, wherever here is. I can’t help from here. I can’t hold my grandbabies from here. I can’t continue to help Freddy from here. I can’t encourage Josie or hold her hand or give her hugs or comfort from here! I need to go back! Take me back, now!”
This was not going at all like Carol Jean had expected. She had expected the afterlife to be like a Garden Path or a Pin Wheel, maybe a Log Cabin, but this was more like a Buzz Saw or a Crazy Quilt! Was there quilting in heaven? She could really use a needle and some thread right now.
Heather:
“Carol, it's going to be okay,” Will said in a soft voice, encircling her again in his arms. How many years had she longed for these embraces? Just like in life, his touch and his presence brought her comfort and steadied her heart.
Suddenly she felt a warmth rush all through her body and another voice sound through her whole being, whispering words of peace. Somehow she knew where it came from. It was love, so pure and all-encompassing that she had not even known it existed, or at least never comprehended it before. In a moment she felt how very much she was cherished and valued, and could see with clarity what the contributions of her life meant. Her life as a whole had been like a soft and colorful quilt. Some of the blocks were vibrantly colored, with intricate patterns interwoven together and the smallest of perfect stitches. Others were a soft haze of gauzy white and gray, with large stitches unevenly placed, as if executed by one who was just learning to hold a needle and thread. A narrow section slashing through the corner was a dark, angry brown, full of hard angles and frayed threads. Even though it marred the intricate beauty of the varied colors and patterns, it still seemed important, like the finished piece would not have been the same without it. Her quilt would not have been complete without the darkness to contrast the exquisite variation of experiences.
Carol Jean felt calm and peaceful. Her life had been full of meaning. Hadn't she brought three beautiful children into the world? As only a mother can, she knew exactly what each child needed to help them navigate through their own blocks of life.
To her first child Stella, Carol Jean radiated the assurance that all was well, along with a gust of confidence. She used Will's arms to wrap around her daughter the warm embrace of a father's love, while she whispered softly to her heart, saying “You can do this, Stella," and "I am so proud of you, my daughter."
For her daughter Josie, she dried the tender tears of a broken heart, left empty and childless, threatening to shrivel up and never experience the warmth of true happiness. Carol Jean wasn't surprised to find a little lost soul hovering around her daughter, unsure of how to make the leap into mortality. Will kindly took the child's hand, and with a kiss from his Grandma, guided him through the veil of haze and into his mother's anxiously waiting arms.
For her dear Freddy, Carol Jean looked far and wide for the one person who could mend him. She finally found Rory working as a waitress in a dive of a diner a few hours away from where Freddy lived. Will was particularly good at creating circumstances which seemed like trials at first sight, but eventually developed into carefully orchestrated blessings in the end. Between the two of them, they were able to get Freddy and Rory to meet face to face, after a series of unfortunate mishaps while Freddy was driving across the state for a promising job interview, and Carol Jean started the intricate work of stitching two lonely hearts together.
"You did good, Girl," Will told her affectionately as they were watching their family congregate once again, this time for the happier occasion of Freddy's wedding.
"We did good," Carol Jean corrected, taking her sweetheart's hand in her own. Her quilt was complete. The binding was finished, the threads were all trimmed, and her heart swelled with pride as she looked down at her creation. It was then that she realized she was no longer sad that her children hadn't placed one of her earthly quilts in the casket with her decaying body.
She had her most precious creation with her the entire time, and she no longer felt cold.
